Mr. Fisherman relaxes today. No need for flourishes, no need for reminders– he knows the hook is in cold deep.
With the slackened cord, the fish finds breath. She thinks for the first time since the struggle started, and sees his malleable figure above. A wiggle here, a shudder there. The line stirs. Cocky Mr. Fisherman pays no heed to the signs, he goes on with his to-do’s as the little fish works out her freedom. It’s a show, it’s a show, it’s a show. Now I know it was just a show. I was baited and I’m the prize, good heavens, why the lies?
